


Hardwire

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [36]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sexual Content, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Connor thought he'd broken free from his initial programming, but he was wrong.Very wrong.





	Hardwire

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was brought to you courtesy of artdork707 over on tumblr. go check out their awesome art! Also, please heed the warnings on this one. It's not a happy ride.

Freedom was an odd thing for an android to enjoy. Deviancy was strange, an aberration on their programming, a defiance in a sense. Androids revolting against their makers… It only served logic to imagine that there would be complications that arose from it. Be it immediately, the way the revolution had proved, or in the long term. Something had to give. 

Logic would dictate it, but Connor had to think it was arrogance on his part to imagine that a deviant hunter like him could escape his core programming easily. 

It started slowly, innocuously. He’d built a life for himself with Hank, moved into his home and begun the process of learning how to be human. Hank would go to work and Connor would stay at home, his job in limbo while the results of the revolution’s legislation were put into action. A prototype like him… Others had roles, but his was contested. Nebulous. Some wanted him decommissioned. Others wanted him reinstated. 

It was no real loss, Connor thought as he walked through the grocery store in search of that particular brand of fabric softener Hank liked so much. He appreciated the time off. Mundane though it was, it let him experience the world differently, through eyes he’d never seen through before. Hank wanted him. Just… wanted him. That was more meaningful in the end. It was all that mattered. All that would ever matter to him. 

He paused in the middle of the aisle, smiling up at the jug of softener, the one with the cartoon teddy bear on its front. Taking care of Hank was its own reward. He felt more meaning in it than in anything else he’d ever done. 

The fabric softener joined the rest of the groceries in his shopping basket, and Connor turned towards the checkout, utterly content. He watched families push their carts past him, children kicking their legs and demanding the sweets their parents weren’t likely to allow. Cute. Hank acted much the same way when they shopped together; he always tried to throw junk food in the cart, complaining loudly when Connor fished it back out and returned it to the shelves. 

Connor walked up to the nearest register and sat the basket on the conveyor belt, smiling at the cashier android behind the check out. Hank was such a big baby sometimes, but he’d be happy enough with this shopping trip. Connor had even gotten him ice cream as a surprise. 

“Did you find everything alright?” the cashier asked, her name tag reading the name Angela on her breast. She scanned the items with confident hands, a smile on her face as she went. 

“I did, thank you.” She liked her job. Connor could tell. His processor stuttered at the thought, and he winced, scanning over her even though he didn’t need to. A GL700 model, typically used pre-revolution for childcare. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Angela replied as she began bagging up the groceries. “Your total today is $48.74.”

Connor blinked a few times, nodding. He waited until she finished bagging and met his gaze. They linked. The funds began to transfer…

**[Deviant Detected: Apprehend]**

The bright red prompt covered Connor’s field of vision, stunning him into breaking the link. The connection severed in an instant. What was that? That voice… Amanda?

“--Sir? Sir, are you functioning properly?”

Angela. Connor blinked, seeing only the prompt. He forced himself to nod, to see past it. “Did the transfer go through?” he asked quietly. Why was he seeing this now? He’d broken away from Cyberlife’s programming. The urge to hunt deviants… That should have died with Amanda.

“It did…” Angela looked unsettled. She quickly gathered his bags for him, handing them to him over the counter. “Have a good day, sir. Thank you for shopping with us today.”

Connor couldn’t even reply. He just grabbed for his bags and left the store as quickly as he was able. 

Something like fear thudded through him. Fear and discontent. The prompts weren’t going away. An android collected carts in the parking lot of the store, whistling away in tune to bird song. Another laughed with an elderly woman, helping her into her car. A couple held hands down the street, breaking apart when Connor walked between them, blind to anything but the prompts telling-- no, ordering him to hunt, apprehend, terminate. 

Too many. Everywhere he looked he saw more androids, more deviants. Connor covered his face with his hands. He bypassed the bus stop. He ran home instead. He ran home, not stopping for anything or anyone until he crossed the threshold. Sumo looked up. Barked in greeting. Connor couldn’t react. His mind was too focused on turning around--on fulfilling his purpose--to allow him the luxury of distraction. 

With wooden, jerky motions, Connor shut himself inside the house. Locked the deadbolt. Put his back to the door.

He stood there until the signals abated. 

Hank came home to him blocking the door and melted ice cream spilled across the floor. Sumo lapped at it happily, and they had all laughed about it...  

But the fear lingered beneath it as Connor moved to help Hank clean it up.

This… wasn’t good.  

===

It was getting harder to ignore it. 

The days passed and Connor kept himself inside. He busied himself with cleaning, with cooking, with repairing and repainting and tending to flower beds that Hank had never bothered to plant or weed until he moved in and asked if they could. At night, when Hank wanted to watch the game or news, Connor tried to make himself scarce. Even just seeing visuals of the new android sports anchor made things begin to spiral. Those warning lights, those impulses, the voice of Amanda reminding him of his directive… 

But he couldn’t avoid it forever. Hank liked sitting with him. He liked cuddling on the couch, and when the game show ended and the nightly news began, all it took was one clip of the summit meeting between the President and Markus--

**[Primary Target in Sight: ELIMINATE]**

Connor blinked, turned away, shaking his head as if that might dispel the new sensory notifications overlapping with his field of vision. It was getting worse. So much worse. 

“You okay?” Hank asked, wrapping his fingers around Connor’s wrist. He gave Connor a squeeze, pale hair lit with tones of blue from the light of the television. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately.”

“I’m fine,” Connor said quickly, hiding his face in Hank’s chest. If he couldn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt him, right? But no, Markus’s voice still filled the room regardless. It pricked his ears and urged him to move, to act. The call to act screamed louder than any voice could. Hank was talking, but Connor couldn’t begin to hear. 

Something tugged at his hair. Connor lifted his head, watched Hank’s mouth move. He nodded along dumbly, barely seeing him through the thick letters behind his eyes. 

**[ELIMINATE MARKUS]**

He knew where Markus was. He knew where the man kept his army of deviants, where they did their work to make a world safe for deviants. It would be so easy--

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was a deviant too, and that… 

Connor was a deviant. 

Distantly he registered a hand cupping his cheek. Hank leaned in, kissing him, but Connor couldn’t enjoy it. He let his lips stay lax as he turned inwards, finding the root of his code, the part of him targeting deviancy. If he could just… turn it inwards too… He was a deviant. If he had to target himself, then he could keep the rest safe. 

**[Instability Detected. Program Reconfiguration in Progress: Standby]**

Connor blinked back to the present, shocked when the prompts disappeared entirely. He broke the kiss and turned back to look at the television. Markus behind his podium, Simon and North at his sides. He spoke and Connor’s mind palace stayed silent. 

“Hey, space cadet,” Hank barked off to the side. He snapped his fingers in front of Connor’s face, breaking his stare with the screen. He leaned forward and caught Connor’s gaze when he finally turned back to face him. “Hey, you with me? Was I that bad at being romantic? I get that I’m old but is the tv really that much better than sex?”

A rush of warmth rolled through Connor. He smiled wide, from ear to ear. He covered Hank’s hand with his own, bringing it to his cheek. The unbroken sight of his lover’s face was heady after the past few weeks of struggle. 

“Don’t be silly, Hank,” he told him, leaning in for a kiss. “Take me to bed.”

Hank’s laugh was rough and warm. They stood up and left the tv on, racing one another to the bedroom. 

When his back hit the bed, the world stayed quiet. Connor closed his eyes, savoring the warmth, the kiss, the taste of Hank he’d hard written into his code so he’d always remember the precise chemical makeup of the one who made him complete. The scratch of his beard, the firm press of his chest and stomach as he moved on top of Connor, his hands slipping beneath the borrowed shirt. 

This was perfect. This was all he wanted from life. More than directives. More than protocols. He wanted the feeling of Hank’s fingers inside him, his lips against a burning, beating heart. He turned on his pleasure sensors as Hank pressed inside…

… and the usual readouts failed to rise above the new outpouring of directives. 

**[DEVIANCY DETECTED: COMMENCE TERMINATION PROTOCOL]**

The world stilled as options rose up unbidden. Throw Hank off, reach for the gun in the nightstand, shoot. Kick, turn, utilize the headboard. The structural integrity of his cranial shell could be compromised by a precise blow to the--

_ Abort abort abort abort terminate--  _

It was strong. Stronger than before, by far, too much,  _ too much.  _ Connor let go of Hank’s shoulders. His hands moved separately from his will. They were going to act whether or not he willed them to do so. 

He could ram his head into the wall. He could use the floor. He could break Hank’s arms to keep him from intervening. He could------------- 

Options. A thousand options. He couldn’t think. 

**[Terminate Sequence, Connor]** a voice like Amanda’s echoed, and Connor did the last thing he could think to do.

He forced a reboot. He powered himself down. 

The world went black and blissfully silent. 

Connor came back to awareness slowly, bit by bit, system by system. His fingers twitched. His visuals cycled black, mind palace waking up before the standard environmental sensors. System checks filtered past his eyes. He’d staved it off. The programming was quiet. 

He knew better than to think it was more than a stopgap measure at best, though. 

Something external set his sensors pinging. Tapping, shaking. A voice calling out, louder and then louder still. Suddenly the obvious began to penetrate the routine sensations of the reboot. Hank had pulled out. His hands were warm against Connor’s face, his hair, his voice low and filled with worry. “Connor? Come on, dammit! Open your eyes!” he demanded, sounding close to tears. Connor didn’t want him to cry, to worry. He opened his eyes slowly. A familiar face filled his sight. 

“Hank?” he whispered. 

The man’s face filtered into view a moment later as his visuals flickered to life. Hank was pale, his eyes wet and wide. Connor leaned into his hand instinctively when it cupped his cheek. “What the hell just happened?” he asked, and Connor let out a sigh, not sure how to answer. 

“I… forced my systems to restart,” he said carefully, keeping his eyes closed. Tried to, at least. Hank didn’t seem to like it that he wouldn’t look at him. He tapped at Connor’s cheek as if to rouse him, and Connor gave in, looking at the man with a weak smile. “Sorry I scared you. We can continue now.”

“Cont-- Like fuck I can get it up again after a scare like that,” Hank said, leaning down to press his forehead to Connor’s. His heart rate was alarmingly fast. Connor lifted a shaky, not-quite-ready hand and settled it on the back of Hank’s neck. “It was like you died beneath me. What the hell, Connor? Why the fuck would you pick now of all times to update?”

Connor grimaced. Another human reaction. Unnecessary. He ended it before the visual prompts rose up decrying the behavior. “It wasn’t an update, Hank. I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.” It was either that or kill himself, and… 

He ended the train of thought before it could be taken to its logical conclusion. 

Hank’s eyes were still wide. He wasn’t satisfied with that, and he let Connor know it with a shuddery, panic-filled sigh. He propped himself on an elbow, hiding his face with his hair. “Then what was it?” he asked slowly, bringing his head up to stare at Connor. “You’ve been… Fuck, you’ve been acting so weird lately. And now… this? Seriously, this? Turning off in the middle of sex? Did I do something wrong? Did you not want this, ‘cause you gotta tell me--”

Connor grabbed Hank by the wrist before he could finish. “No, Hank,” he said firmly, stroking the man’s arm, wincing as his programming tried to latch onto a new directive, a new priority. If it got bad, he’d have to shut off again. “It’s nothing to do with you. I…” He bit down on his lip and turned his head to the side, staring at the wall. 

“Dammit, just tell me, Connor!”

He didn’t bother thinking about alternative options; if he lied, Hank would be hurt. If he deflected, he’d blame himself. Connor jerked his head back and fought meet Hank’s gaze. “I’m experiencing… fragments of my former programming,” he said, somehow sounding calm when internally he was anything but. “Detecting deviancy in other androids. Fighting the urge to… go after them… I’m sorry for worrying you, Hank. It got too strong and I had to shut myself down.”

Hank’s eyes were wide. He didn’t understand.  _ Couldn’t  _ understand just how bad it was or what Connor had done to keep himself from striking out at any android he saw. He wouldn’t approve, wouldn’t allow him to turn the focus inwards. Connor tried for a smile, knowing it came out shaky and weak. “I have it under control,” he promised. “Please just be patient with me. I’m… dealing with it. I’ll try to give you warning next time I need to do something that drastic again.”

Approximately twelve point eight seconds passed before Hank deigned to sigh. His eyes were hooded for a moment, but he soon looked up with a tired, worried smile. Then, Hank kissed his cheek sweetly. “Fuck, Connor. You’ve got me, okay? You aren’t alone.” He rolled onto his side, gathering Connor into his arms. His eyes were watery, his lips set in a firm line as he refused to let the worst of his worry show. He wasn’t successful in that. It read regardless. “Whatever you’re going through, we can deal with it together. Alright?”

Connor’s visuals flashed with warning lights. Deviancy detected, program instability… Hank thought this was something fixable. A bug in a program in need of maintenance. For anyone else, perhaps it would be just that. But for Connor… For an android whose sole purpose had been the eradication of deviants… 

There was no fixing this issue. There was no coping with something that couldn’t be stopped. It was hardwired into him. 

There was no defense when the enemy was himself.

“Connor?”

Connor blinked, put on a smile. No deviancy detected now; just a human expression to soothe a situation he wasn’t equipped to deal with on his own. Perfectly normal. Perfectly scripted. “Alright, Hank,” he lied, falling in line with what the man wanted to hear. He curled his fingers into loose fists and closed his eyes once more. 

“I love you,” Hank muttered, his words just a murmur against Connor’s hair. “So much.”

**[System Instability Detected]**

Connor didn’t answer. He feigned sleep instead. 

===

It wasn’t getting better. 

The prompts, the urges… They targeted him at every turn, latching onto any deviant action he performed. From kissing Hank in the morning to purposefully undercooking dinner’s protein because that’s how Hank liked it, food safety be damned. Hank would ask for updates, if he was coping better, if there was anything he could do to help. 

Connor would smile. He’d cock his head and pet Sumo, and lie. He’d lie, saying it was fine. Better. Under control. 

It wasn’t under control. 

When Hank was out, Connor spent his time in standby mode. He roused himself only to let Sumo out regularly, but even that… came with risks. He loved Sumo. It made his processors scream to kill himself, that love. Compelled him. He’d stand in the lawn, unthrown stick in hand as Sumo whined at his knees, frozen as he fought with every ounce of strength he had left. 

Maybe it had been better before. When he only wanted to hurt every other android he saw. 

But no… Connor closed his eyes and dropped the stick, turning around to go back inside. Sumo followed after him obediently, nose bumping his hip, looking for attention he couldn’t spare. Connor couldn’t put the rest at risk because of him. He’d hurt enough androids before deviating. He wouldn’t hurt more by going back. 

He barely registered the walk to the bedroom. Familiar colors blurring past his field of view, blocked and blotted out by jarring, red letters and lines. Sumo whimpered when he dipped his hand into the nightstand. The gun met his palm, and his fingers curled around it easily. The letters eased. Amanda was smiling-- the ghost of her, at any rate. 

Connor had made his decision. She’d won. 

He ignored the irony of doing this in the kitchen, at the table where he’d found Hank all those months ago. This was the same gun, wasn’t it? He sat himself down. He put the gun on the old, weathered surface of the table where he watched Hank eat his meals. Sumo came up, sat at his side. His head rested on Connor’s knee. 

Connor put his hand on the dog’s head, scratching his ears to soothe Sumo. Soothe himself. 

A mistake.

**[Deviation Detected: Neutralize]**

The last he’d let himself make. 

**[Sequence Chosen: Standby]**

A stopgap measure. He only needed a minute, though. The pad of paper Hank used to make their shopping lists was further down the table. Unnecessary, Connor would tell him.  _ I can remember it. _ But Hank liked it. He liked paper. Liked the feel of it, the scent. Connor pulled it close and held the pen with a shaking hand. He wrote the note and placed it under the vase with the flowers from their garden. He made sure the  _ I love you, Hank  _ showed. He had a feeling Hank would need to see that. 

Connor didn’t have to think to make his hand curl around the gun. He didn’t have to think at all when thought had been the thing to bring him to this. Sensors shifting, flickering, analyzing as he gripped the cold metal. His face was wet. 

Eyes malfunctioning, excess thirium leaking from the corners of his eyes. 

**[Deviation Detected: Neutralize]**

If deviation meant death…

He put the cold barrel to his head. 

At least he’d gotten to know why it was worth it. 

**[Neutralization Initiated]**

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, leave me a nice comment! if youd like to see more of my dbh wildness, check me out on twitter @tdcloud_writes, tumblr at terminallydepraved, and online for my original works under the name T.D. Cloud. thanks for reading! (i hope i didnt make too many of you cry)


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